A tiny hiss of escaping air leaked from the loosened seam, smelling faintly of clean rubber.

“Grandma,” a tiny voice said behind her.

Patricia didn’t drop her hands right away.

She held the plastic ring steady for three seconds before pulling her fingers out of the port.

She turned slowly on her heels, her rubber-soled shoes squeaking sharply against the floor.

Brooklyn stood there in her oversized flannel pajamas, her yellow socks pulled up to her knees.

She was biting her lower lip.